


Someone call for a ride?

by oneatatime



Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: Lois is supportive, Post Justice League, everyone is poly, or potentially at least, very much pre-slash for Bruce/Clark, which is why I haven't put them in the relationships tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneatatime/pseuds/oneatatime
Summary: Clark's lips quiver as he tries to restrain laughter. There's humour and fondness in his eyes as he glances at Bruce.Asshole.





	Someone call for a ride?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).



Plummeting to his doom is something that Bruce Wayne has done far too often. He triggers his first bat-chute, which has a hole in it thanks to a shard of the supercharged metal still pinwheeling through the air from the automated plane he just took down. Not a problem; he has a second. 

It's also holed. 

He breathes out a tired sigh. Feels like he's been tired since, oh, last century. The readout on his wristcomm is failing in the electrical aftereffects of the massive electromagnetic pulse Bruce had to set off to destroy the plane. He smacks it, resets it, and then it tells him that his copter is a minimum of two minutes from restarting and he's a maximum of ninety seconds from the ground. 

Last resort. 

Distress signal. His wristcomm starts bipping at a super high pitch, not audible, but still something he can feel in the bzzting of the hairs on his arm even through the whistling of the air past him. He holds on tight to what's left of his insides - he's fallen from greater heights before but he's never exactly enjoyed it - and waits until he whumps into strong arms.

"Someone call for a ride?"

Clark is always so cheerful. (Well, except when he's just been resurrected and is trying to beat the bat-crap out of Bruce.)

Bruce can't help but smile. "You're right on time. I'll have to rate you, um, highly." 

...smooth, Wayne, real smooth. Helps if you know what you're referring to. There's some app right now, isn't there. Where people take other people for rides in their cars, instead of taking cabs? And you rate them. But he can't remember what it's called. Apart from his ridiculous wealth which he could technically use to call any number of cabs, Bruce has enough gadgets at home to drive him around the world a thousand times over, even if they've all failed him in the sky just now. He doesn't really _need_ to know what app it is. And he does actually give a lot of money to charity, without just handing over a cheque. He does work on the ground. He talks to people, he keeps in touch. He knows that his situation, his privilege, means by default that he doesn't know what other people are going through. 

But it's still kind of mortifying to be that out of touch. 

If he asks Alfred later, Alfred will tease him about his terrible flirting skills. 

Speaking of...

His wristcomm is functioning better again, and there's an alert. Alfred's standard 'your vital signs went haywire and it would be most helpful, Master Bruce, if you could notify me of your death or otherwise'. "I need to make a call." After a moment he says, "Alfred. I'm fine."

"Don't tell me you actually have a date," Alfred says dryly over the comm. 

Bruce looks up at the guy whose arms he's currently in, and he snorts, tilting it so that Alfred can see. "If you rate rescuing me from being a bat-pancake on the surface of the Amazon as a date, then sure."

"I have low standards when it comes to your romantic life, and you could do far worse."

Clark's lips quiver as he tries to restrain laughter. There's humour and fondness in his eyes as he glances at Bruce.

Asshole. 

Clark - Superman - sets him down on the side of the river in a cleared patch of grass, not too far from their current base of sleek black tents. There's no one around here for miles, which is exactly why Bruce had picked this region for exploding the supply plane to the League of Terrible Men. Means there'll be people after them both, and after Diana, and Arthur, too. Both in this area as well. But that's not exactly a first for any of them. 

"Cute," Arthur says, emerging from the water with water cascading from his torso. He's grinning, and is the epitome of a certain kind of horrendously attractive manliness as usual. Bruce rolls his eyes at him. It's not always easy, being the only one without super powers. Arthur heads over to log into the little network Bruce has set up here - see, he is useful - and Bruce massages his wrists. 

"Thanks, though," he says to Clark, his voice not quite as gruff as usual. It's difficult to be vulnerable around this guy. Much easier to let him save his life than it is to show him an honest emotion. He can't help but remember Clark's face twisted in rage because they brought him back. Because Bruce knew they needed him. 

Because Bruce knew Clark was a far better human being than he was. 

Clark claps him on the shoulder, and maybe lets his hand linger a little longer than he needs to. "Stop that." 

"Eh?" 

There's nothing but gentleness in those soft eyes when Clark steps around in front of him. "I mean it. Stop beating yourself up. We've made mistakes, both of us, but we're moving past it. Lois keeps telling me I need to be blunt with you." 

...wait. Blunt? What's Lois alluding to? Bruce is definitely not about to ask anything further about that when Diana zooms in, breathing hard as she skids to a smooth stop on the grass. She's obviously finished her own part of the mission. He'd like to claim he was about to ask Clark and doesn't need the distraction. He'd like to claim he has the courage to push, to get that clarification, but he's self-aware enough to know that's bullshit. 

Bruce trudges over behind Clark, listening to Diana and Arthur and Clark catch each other up as he grabs one of his cases and starts replacing all the consumables he used. Darts, an oxygen mask, and so forth. He didn't need to use the shark repellent this time. Always a plus. The mission's going well enough. They have a big push in the morning to get to the League's base up in the mountains (why is it never somewhere simple), assuming they're not interrupted tonight. He and Diana are sleeping at their own base, on one of Bruce's sleek little black pallets. Arthur has business in the sea. Clark's heading back home - not like he'll be out of reach. 

There's an understanding look from Diana over Clark's shoulder, as she pushes her glossy black hair back behind an ear. She doesn't miss a damn thing. He'd like it if he had any idea just what it is she hadn't missed, though. He smiles back at her anyway. 

"We'll move in the morning, then," Bruce says in the end, just to feel like he's contributed something. 

* * * 

Before he goes to sleep, he checks in with Alfred again. Alfred is, of course, managing just fine, and Bruce loses himself thankfully in the various businesses of keeping Wayne Manor stocked, his charitable contributions, coordinating his various board meetings and speaking appearances. In the end, he mentions something tiredly that he really shouldn't've mentioned. 

"Uber," Alfred says, raising an aristocratic eyebrow. "You don't know about Uber, Master Bruce? _Really_."

At least he'd gotten away without a certain comment - "And we need to work on your flirting!" 

Bruce sighs.


End file.
